Remember the Name
by Pine-bundles
Summary: Catching Fire to Post Mockingjay. Eventual Joniss.
1. Chapter 1

Twenty four went in and twenty four came out, scarred and broken. Twenty three in caskets, one on her own two feet. She made it out alive, but she was already dead and decaying, her soul stripped away. Her heart was hollow and her body was cold and lifeless with the ice that flowed through her veins.

They thought it was a strategy, that she was pretending to be weak, but an act it was not. She had gone into the games with a craving, a raw desire to win and a thirst for victory; to come back to all of the riches and promises. Instead she came back to no one waiting for her at the train station. No one to welcome her back. They hated her, her family. She was a monster, a villain – a victor. She came back wishing _she_ was the one in the casket, one of the twenty three.

But in all of this doubt, all of these troubles, there was one thing for certain, one thing that never would falter, they'd remember her name. _Mason_.


	2. Chapter 2

Her eyelids parted groggily, thing began to blur into unfocused clarity around her. A dull throb grew stronger, a sharp relentless pain drumming an un-faltering rhythm behind her eyes. Struggling to sit up, a muted crash sounded as a bottle collided with the dirty hardwood floor of her home. _Home._ That was a start.

She began to slowly recollect facts of the previous night, or whenever she had been awake last. Pushing her blankets off of her with heavy, unresponsive limbs, she struggled to sit up. The smell of pine and stale alcohol burned in her nose as she stumbled forward on weak knees in the direction of painkillers.

Fragments of memory were coming together in her mind like an impossible jigsaw puzzle, recollection fighting to break away from her muddled mind. Cursing in annoyance from pain and lack of progress, she allowed her thinking to stall for a moment as she shook a few tablets into her clammy palm before she swallowed them dry. Dry. Everything seemed dry; her mouth was a desert, her skin parched.

So, with that in mind, she struggled toward the bathroom. Stripping off what clothing she had on, she threw the door open with her hip, sending the knob crashing into the wall behind it. Pressing the button that activated the shower's spigot, she climbed in, the frigid water immediately greeting her, drops cascading over her skin, almost instantaneously seizing her from her daze and the after-effects of alcohol.

The memories were starting to flood back to her. Arena. Quarter Quell. Hunger Games. Victors. Back. She was going back.

Her knees gave out and gravity took over, she collapsed to the bathroom floor. Holding her head in her palms, her dull fingernails bit into the tender skin on her face. She couldn't bring the tears to fall; she was not upset, she was not afraid. She was angry. Furious.

Forcing herself against her bodies will, she recovered, getting to her feet and slipping some dry clothes on. Her legs carried her to the kitchen unconsciously, her hand met the neck of a bottle and she brought it to her lips without hesitation, relishing the bitter sting of alcohol as it swam down her throat. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she tipped back the final swig of her drink.

Before she even knew what was happening, the bottle was in fragments across the room. She knew she was accomplishing nothing, burning no rage off with this. But, in truth, the only thing that could douse her anger was embedding her axe into the government. As the only surviving victor of Seven, she was going back, no questions asked. She was going to die, and she had to face it.


	3. Chapter 3

She didn't dress up this time around; she probably wouldn't have put clothes on at all if it hadn't been for Blight. The two of them weren't close, but they were there for each other in times of need. They were each other's shoulder to cry on or extra hand when it was needed. They had this mutual unspoken respect, one that didn't allow "thank yous" to be spoken, one that all of the Victors had for one another. Had. After this, after these Games, it wouldn't be the same.

They called her name. It wasn't a surprise. She stood up and walked to the stage hastily, snarling and pushing off peace keepers who attempted to usher her away from the crowd. They drew the name for the males, the pool had a more vibrant selection but not by much, there were four of them in total, three of them from some of the earliest Games. She watched as the gloved hand danced around the bowl and winced when the name was announced, it was Blight. With a grimace etched deeply into her expression, a look passed between the two victors, so many things swimming in their eyes. Fear, anger, hope, brutality. There was no hunger, no thirst or desire to win this time, she was open to her fate, and she was ready to die.

Within the first thirty seconds after their names were announced for the second time she was half-dragged, half-pushed onto a train. All of it felt like a dream. She was supposed to live the rest of her life in peace, supposed to be free because she killed eight kids, because she killed people's sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, and friends. The atmosphere on the train had a dream-like haziness that put a sour flavor in her mouth. She wished it was a dream, wished that she could force her eyes open and that it would all be over.

* * *

She woke up screaming, and scrambling backwards, throwing punches in a colorful variety of different directions until she felt her knuckles collide against something solid and sturdy. Blight's face. Clarity sharpened her vision in no time, her eyes greeted by a shocked expression etched into her district mate's face.

"Dammit, Blight, what are you doing in here?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the fitful screaming of her slumber.

"We're here," he responded simply, pivoting on his heel and strolling out as if nothing had happened. _Where? _The question was on the tip of her tongue. Then, for the second time that day, it all came rushing back to her. Her brain was always fuzzy when she woke, her thoughts always muddled. But, come to think of it, she hadn't remembered ever falling asleep on the train.

With that in mind, she traced her fellow Victor's steps with her own, only stopping to wait for the automatic doors to open, emitting the mechanical hum as they overlapped to let her through. She wondered if one day, like humans, they would cease to open, refuse to let anyone pass. Yet, she knew if they did someone would come to repair them. It did not work that way for the people of the Districts, when they were broken and worthless and scared there was no way to fix them, their souls simply evaporated, everything they had worked for throughout their life. Gone. Just like that.

Blight stopped at the door that acted as a barrier between the train and the Capitol, and she did the same. His neck swiveling so his eyes were capable of making eye contact he asked, "You ready?"

She exhaled, it was an unanswerable question that no one was ever ready for, or what pursued, so after a moment's pause she replied, "As I'll ever be." They stepped over the border in perfect synchronization, their feet landing together. Everything felt fake. The air, heavy with pollution, felt artificial. The chants of her own name hung in the air like the smog that blanketed the city, but one was unique from the rest, a smooth sing-song that cradled her. "Jo! Johanna!"

"Finnick!" her voice rand out giddily, chasing in the direction his came from, sliding agilely through spaces between people. When she arrived at her destination she let his arms envelope her. "Long time no see asshole, would it have killed you to call?" she murmured against his chest. She could feel his smile.

When they untangled themselves, he gestured with his head toward the area she assumed was the training center. "Well, we've got a lot of catching up to do, then." She trailed him without hesitation, picking up her pace after a minute so they could walk beside one another. She could sense something was wrong, but she knew better than to ask, he'd explain soon enough.

* * *

It was a short walk from the station to the Center, when they arrived they took the stairs to the fourth floor. Either because Mags was good company, or because they didn't feel like hiking seven flights of stairs, she didn't know which one.

"We need to talk," Finnick stated as soon as the door closed behind him.

"Yeah, no shit," Johanna responded. "What's this about?

"I can't tell you here"

"Where, then?" she asked

"Roof," he whispered, pushing her through the door before adding "Tonight, after the chariots,"

Finnick wasn't a secretive person, he knew that the Capitol was watching them every second of every day, with exception of a couple blind spots, but it hadn't ever really stopped either of them from saying whatever was on their minds. Johanna could do it because they couldn't threaten her with anyone, Finnick because those he cared about were untouchable, because they were Victors. The Capitol hadn't ever threatened Victors up until the announcement of these Games. There were a couple exceptions, of course, blamed on accidents and what not, but that was mostly those who blatantly defied the Capitol and the Districts, the ones that even the Capitol citizens didn't mourn.

She knew something was going on and she wasn't about to pass up the chance to hear about it.

* * *

**A/N - I hope you really enjoyed this chapter, I'm sorry it took a while, I had a week jam-packed with exams and I knew I wanted to lengthen the chapters more, hopefully there will be longer ones still to come. If you've been following this fic so far, thank you so much, please feel free to leave a review I'd really like to hear what you have to say. Thank you guys for reading, more updates soon to come.**


	4. Chapter 4

The day passed quickly and painlessly aside from the poking and prodding of her stylist (Who's name she had never bothered to actually learn, but typically referred to with derogatory names and phrases.) and her prep team. Finnick, who had been waiting for her, looked her up and down when she approached him. "Trees? I would have never guessed," he said with the contours of an arrogant grin plastered on his face.

"Keep talking, I'll give you a pretty nasty splinter," she responded. He lifted his hands in mock surrender and took a couple steps back. "That's what I thought." She said with a grin, but something behind her had captured his attention. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she turned to see what had him so preoccupied. When she saw what it was, or _who_, rather, she was confident that her jaw collided with the ground. She had no idea who it was that she was looking at, the girl was strikingly beautiful, make-up and her costume highlighting her already stunning features, she found herself staring.

"You look hypnotized, Jo." Commented Finnick, she'd barely heard what he'd said through her churning thoughts.

"Who is that?" she queried, this brought Finnick's eyes immediately to her, un-filtered shock displaying on his face.

"Johanna, that's only the most talked about lady in the entire country." She shook her head in confusion, still not allowing her eyes pry away from the girl, who seemed uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on her. "That's the Victor of the 74th, from 12," he added, still without a voiced response from Johanna. "Katniss Everdeen?" he tried, that seemed to spark some recognition in the girl.

"The berry girl?" she asked, wracking her brain for recollection of the most recent Games. She remembered one of the most defiant acts she had witnessed since Haymitch's small act of rebellion against the Capitol, which she hardly remembered. She took a moment to wonder what it was that was in the water in 12, what made their Victors so gutsy.

"Yeah, the berry girl," he responded, obvious amusement playing on his features. "You should go talk to her," he offered.

"_You_ should go talk to her," she fired back almost instantaneously.

"Okay." He shrugged and stalked away, snatching a couple sugar cubes from a stranger and tossing them into his mouth on the way, leaving her to sulk in her own thoughts.

* * *

She exhaled as her feet met the cement terrain, giving Blight a small wave before walking in the direction of 4's chariot.

"How was she?" it was the first question that escaped from her lips, he threw her an amused look.

"Surprisingly," he paused, grinning, before adding "a lot like you, you'll probably hate her." She rolled her eyes and gave him a disapproving glance; this seemed to entertain him even more. "Might be able to catch her now, if you hurry," he told her, gesturing toward the trio of 12's Victors. Seeing this as a window of opportunity that could not be passed up on, she started toward the elevator they were entering. "Don't forget, roof!" Finnick called after her. She took mental note of that before picking up her brisk pace to an almost-jog.

She slid through the closing elevator doors with no room to spare, the muted _thud _of her head piece hitting the floor masked by the closing of the doors. Glancing up, she was greeted by the eyes of the two most recent Victors (and Haymitch) assessing her. She assumed they were trying to place her, determine what Games she had won. This made her feel strangely self-conscious, an emotion that she very rarely was exposed to, she finger-combed her hair absentmindedly before unbuckling her bracelets. "Horrible, isn't it?" she scoffed, gesturing toward her lumber-themed costume. "My stylist, biggest idiot in the Capitol," she groaned "Trees, always trees. I'd love to put my axe in her face," she added, probably over-emphasizing the last part. Pausing for a moment, she noted that she didn't have a strong hold on their attention. "You guys look stunning," she complimented, feeling out of character the moment she had said it.

An improvised response came from Katniss, who probably hadn't been paying any sort of attention since she'd slid into the elevator. "Yeah, Cinna's great, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet."

"I have," she replied, struggling to suppress a grin, "That dress you wore to 2. So gorgeous I wanted to rip it right off of you back," this seemed to make the girl squirm, which please Johanna, given that was exactly the response she was aiming for.

Throughout the rest of the ascent, she let the silence brew as she slid out of the rest of her dress, heaving a content sigh when she was finally free of the constricting material. As the elevator emitted the cliché _ding, _she threw a wink at the Victors and slipped back through the doors, offering a farewell of, "Thanks, let's do it again sometime," stalling outside the closing doors just long enough to hear Haymitch introduce her as "Johanna Mason, District 7."

She grinned, knowing that the girl wouldn't forget her name any time soon and strolled back to her room.

* * *

When she pried open the door to the room assigned to 7's Victors, she was met with the slack-jawed (and bruised) face of Blight. She didn't know why he was so surprised to see her without a stitch, it wasn't like it was a rare occurrence. He opened his mouth to say something but she interjected with a dismissive wave of her hand accompanied by "don't ask." She made her way to the kitchen and opened a bottle of liquid, tipping some of its contents into her mouth, but the beverage was almost immediately taken from her hands.

"You're not going to be hung over for training," he paused before adding "or interviews." She glared at him in response before sulking into the next room to pull on clothing and wash the heavily-applied make up off of her face.

Entering back into the main room, she sunk into the plush couch next to her District partner. "Hey, what's up with this Everdeen chick?" she asked, trying to force an opinion out of someone other than her District 4 companion for once. Blight shot her a puzzled look.

"Other than being the most recent Victor and the only person to defy the Capitol recently, nothing special as far as I know." He paused, trying to recollect more details. "She's also a Capitol sweetheart because of what she did to save lover boy."

"Lover boy?" she questioned, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"Her District partner in the Games, I don't buy the whole star-crossed lovers thing, though, not from her anyway." That brought the beginnings of a smile to her lips, Blight noticed this, and opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, obliging to the un-spoken rule that forbid either of them to intrude on each others business.

Sensing his tenseness, she changed the subject, "What happened to your face?" she teased, making her way to the door. He responded with a stiff middle finger, and a light smile. "I'm going to see Finnick, I'll be back later." She informed him, and with that, she made her way to the stairwell.

* * *

**A/N - First of all, thank you so much for the favorites and reviews, you're all truly amazing, thanks for sticking around so far. This one's a tad bit longer than the last, I originally planned to include a little bit more than I posted, but this was as far as my mind could take me. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me what you have to think. Stay tuned for more updates. (:**


	5. Chapter 5

As she surfaced on the roof, she was content to see that she had beat Finnick to it, leaving her in solitude. Music and fireworks blared in the distance, celebrations commencing in preparation for the Games. She took a seat on the edge of the roof, her feet dangling over, and in that moment, she let herself relax and all of her worries melted away.

And as soon as it began, the serene emptiness vanished; replaced again by the booming soundtrack and now, the flamboyance that was Finnick. "Your wait is over, the party has finally arrived," he announced, his signature I'm-too-good-for-you smirk on his face.

"I hope the party brought drinks," she responded, rolling her eyes at his undying arrogance. She was still slightly bitter from her previous encounter with her district-mate, in which Blight challenged her "drinking problem". _Dick._

When her green-eyed companion handed her a cool glass bottle she wasted no time prying off the aluminum cap and taking a swig, and as soon as the smooth liquid swamped her mouth she spit it out. "Finn, what the hell kind of alcohol is this? It tastes like fucking water,"

Johanna stared at him, waiting for an answer, an even expression settled on his chiseled features. "That's because it is water, Johanna. I called you up here today for an intervention. You have a drinking problem and I refuse to encourage it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth agape and they sat in an uncomfortable silence because she was Johanna Mason, and how fucking dare him, he was her best friend, and he should know better than to challenge her. And then, Finnick couldn't keep a straight face anymore, he erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter, and she just rolled her eyes because _of course _this wasn't for real. _Of course _he knew better. So she muttered a sarcastic "ha ha" and when he still didn't shut up she drew back a clenched fist, and his laughter evaporated.

"Seriously, though, I did call you up here for a reason," he said through wheezy, recovering breaths.

She clenched her jaw, her impatience gnawing at her, wishing he would just get to the point. "What reason, Finn? To act like an eight-year-old?" she replied, harshness in her voice that let him in on the fact that she was suddenly annoyed.

A look of sympathy passed through his face briefly before he thought better of it and concealed it with seriousness. Finnick was the only person who knew the gory details of her past, and exactly what being in the Capitol brought on to her.

"Alright," he paused, closing his eyes briefly as if to prepare for the bomb he was about to drop on her. "It's about Everdeen." And her mind whizzed, she was bad with names, but this one was still fresh in her mind.

"Berry girl," she said through a smirk, recalling the memory of the elevator ride that was still no doubt replaying in the girls mind, she could still see the mortified look on the other girl's face.

"Listen, we need to make this quick, I'm not going to give you all of the details now, this place could be bugged." He said, and looked around the roof top, as if for dramatic effect, but she knew he was serious; the whole Capitol was rigged with hidden cameras and microphones. Johanna listened intently as he explained the situation in a raspy whisper, he spoke about some sort of rebellion and how it was centered around Katniss.

"All of the tributes that are in this thing are already working out plans of attack. Our first shot at this is the interviews; we're going to try to get them to cancel the games. The people don't want this, we're their heroes. All we need to do is plant the seed in their mind that this goes against everything the Games stand for, they'll do the rest."

Thoughts were swimming in her mind even worse that it had been when she was lifted into the arena of her first Game. "And if that doesn't work?" she choked out, Finnick was already shaking his head.

"It will. It has to." There was a look so determined on his face she knew she wouldn't have the heart to let him down.

"What's my job?" she asked, and there was actually _enthusiasm_ in her tone. The thought of getting up close and personal with the Mockingjay didn't sound half bad.

Finnick smirked. "Just be Johanna, especially in your interviews. Don't filter your thoughts; say whatever is on your mind. Get the crowd riled up." And that _was _just being Johanna. She didn't _have _anything inside her to not filter her thoughts, and when she was little it was that lack of filter that got her in so much trouble. Yet ever since she won the Games it had become her trademark, and interestingly enough, the crowd _loved_ it. It was as if they _enjoyed _being insulted by her.

"I've been saving up a few choice words for Snow," she muttered, because this was her true calling. Giving the Capitol the finger on national television had been a dream of hers ever since she won, and she had done it a couple times, but they had always cut it out of the broadcast. She chuckled a little bit at the thought because the interviews were live, there was no way they could clip it, but Finnick didn't join in, and she noticed that the banter between the two of them had been mostly one-sided ever since the topic changed to the Games. She looked over at him expectantly, but he looked pre-occupied. Nudging him a little she asked what his plan was for the interviews. As soon as the question came out of her mouth his eyes clouded over. "Finnick, you can't say anything about…"

"I have to, Jo. Annie's a fine, she's safe even, she's a v-"

"A what, Finn? A Victor? Finnick, in case you haven't noticed, we're Victors too! And guess where we are? Oh yeah, that's right, the fucking _Capitol _getting ready to go into another _interview _for another fucking _Game." _Johanna said and she was so _angry _because how _dare _he even consider putting Annie in harms way. She knows that he knows that Annie is anything but safe. "No one is safe, Finnick. Not you, not me, not Annie, and definitely not Everd-"

Just then the door squeaked open and a face came into light. _Speak of the devil _sure enough, it was the girl on fire herself, and by the look on her face she'd heard the conversation.

* * *

Katniss looked back and forth between the two Victors. "I hope I'm not interrupting," she said apologetically. Playing it off as thought she hadn't been eaves dropping, and maybe she hadn't, maybe the girl just had really bad timing. Or maybe this woman was just a _really _good actress, and _no wonder _she had the whole Capitol fooled.

Johanna's green-eyed companion looked up, flashing a charming smile. "Actually, I was just leaving," he said, standing up and padding swiftly through the door Katniss held open for him, without even bothering to bid a palpable farewell to Johanna.

"How much did you hear?" Johanna asked, skipping directly to the point, she kept her eyes trained on the smog-laden horizon as the girl took a seat on the concrete next to her.

"Enough," the grey-eyed girl responded, letting her feet dangle over the edge. "Who's Annie?" she asked. Except it wasn't, Johanna thought, as much of a question as it was a demand. Finnick was _right _this girl was a lot like her, and she kinda liked it.

"Annie Cresta, Victor from four a couple years back," she stole a quick glance at Katniss, but the other girl didn't seem to place the name. "She went a little…"

"Crazy?" she tried, Johanna shook her head.

"Nah, crazy's not the right word. We're all crazy; nobody comes out of that arena sane." Her eyes drifted back to the figure beside her but when she saw Katniss looking on intently, she pulled away. (Johanna didn't make direct eye contact, manners and rules weren't really her thing.) She heaved a sigh "Annie was unstable going in; when she came out she was wrecked. She doesn't get much screen time, I suppose because even the Capitol can't glorify how fucked up her mind is. It's a shame, she's a beautiful person, she just got fucked over by the universe."

"What about you?" Katniss asked.

"I was never a good person, the Games just made me worse," she was shocked by her admission; she's always thought those things but she's never had the guts to say them aloud. "But you… you fucked the Games up pretty good from what I hear." Katniss chuckled a little bit modestly at that, Johanna smiled at her.

"I guess I had something left to fight for," the other woman responded.

That statement caught Johanna's attention. "Oh yeah? Don't tell me it's love, I don't buy that star-crossed lovers bullshit," practically quoting her conversation with Blight from earlier.

Katniss seemed shocked; Johanna guessed no one had ever called her to the carpet for that one before. "Well," she started; Johanna's eyes burned holes in Katniss now. "It was love, just not for Peeta. My little sister, Prim. She's what kept me going." Katniss caught Johanna's gaze now, and the brown-eyed girl couldn't bring herself to disengage the eye contact.

Suddenly Johanna was fuming with rage. Because Katniss was fortunate enough to have someone she loved, someone she needed to protect, and she had gone and done something so _ignorant. _Gone and painted a huge target on her back for Snow, but Johanna knew Snow, he wasn't kind enough to just kill you, he tortured you instead. He took out your family, picked them off one by one. Then your friends, and when there was no one left that you loved, no one to come home to, when you had nothing left, he let you suffer. She knew exactly how he operated, because he had done it to her.

Johanna stood up and forced her way to the door without a word, leaving behind, she imagined, a very puzzled Katniss Everdeen. "Johanna? Johanna wait!"

And hey, look at that, the grey-eyed woman had remembered her name.

* * *

**A/N** Hello there, friends!I'm really sorry about the wait, I've been kinda busy and I had no motivation to write, but now my motivation is back, so be looking forward to chapter six, it should be up in a couple of days. Thank you for all of your kind reviews and favorites and follows 3. I apologize if anything in this story is a little off, please let me know, I'm one thousand percent open to constructive criticism! Hit me up here or on Tumblr at pine-bundles if you have any advice or anything for me. Thank you guys so much! I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning** \- possible self-harm/anxiety reference

* * *

Johanna once thought that if she could be anything in the world, she would want to be a tree. Trees exist to cater to the needs of other living beings, they do it without hesitation, it's their purpose and they commit to it and they never fail. Human beings would cease to exist without the accommodations rendered by trees. Trees wouldn't be effected if humans ceased to exist.

Trees were purity and chaos. Trees were the Games. Each tree was a tribute, minding itself until it was cut down, thrown through the sawmill. After the games, Johanna didn't want to be a tree anymore. She didn't want to be anything.

In District Seven the people disappear for hours at a time into the forest, they would tell her that the woods were peaceful. She never saw them in that light. To her the woods were numbing. Trees were purity and they were chaos and maybe even she was a tree, but her tree didn't amount to everything. Johanna's tree was a sapling that was picked from the ground and placed in a pot, treated as a house plant, pampered and then forgotten about. Her tree never blossomed into something that spewed life even after if ceased to be. If she was a tree it was not one that became the walls of a house or the floors or a book, her tree was nothing when it came down to it, plucked from its forest. Its family. Johanna was nothing without her family either.

In Panem there are unspoken agreements between acquaintances and friends, boundaries that one simply does not cross. Family is one of them. Things go to shit at an early age in the Districts, it's a well known fact, most kids are raised in in-efficient homes, a parent or both absent, or perhaps non-existent in their lifetimes. No one ever asks about family until they know they're gone (long gone), and even then it's a quiet reverence, then the conversation is dropped, and most of the time, the memory is, too.

No one ever actively thinks about something until you start to pay extra attention to it, it strikes that special part in the mind that creates a whirlwind of attention, every detail one can recall is pulled up from the depths of that thoughtless abyss. You never know what you have until you lose it. Johanna had learned that the hard way, most kids in Panem do.

She had always had few memories of her mother, most of them weren't hers to begin with. Her father managed juggling two kids and a job that toiled him from before the sun rose to long after it had set far better than realistically possible. She always wondered how he functioned on the lack of sleep (it was probably alcohol, that's how she did it now). He spent his hours in the trees, as did most adults in Seven, some days he would operate the mill and others he would spend sawing and chopping in other places. She remembered his rough hands holding a gentle grip on his knife as he cut intricate designs into a piece of wood, the same hands holding her when she scraped her knee or jumped into them when he closed the door. He was soft for someone so coarse, gentle and caring. Kids always seemed to have a love-hate relationship with their parents, he always said "You might not like me all the time, but you have to love me," Johanna thought that was ridiculous, how could he tell if her that she had to love him, wasn't that up to her? (She hated it when he was right, she hated when anyone was right).

* * *

When she pushed through the door on the seventh floor of the training center with tears in her eyes Blight didn't ask questions. If his red-rimmed eyes and vacant expression were any indicator, he'd had a pretty shitty night as well (after all it only takes one shitty moment to make a night complete shit). Blight had left behind his two kids (his wife had been killed in an "accident" coincidentally right after Blight refused to do Snow a "favor") and older sister who Johanna assumed was taking care of them. She felt a pang of optimism, they had someone no matter what happened (only one could come out, right?) .

She truly admired Blight for having children under the circumstances. When Johanna was little and taking care of her brother, she always told herself she wanted some of her own, two, a girl and a boy. The perfect family, her family. (She would adopt, there were too many kids that didn't have anyone).

She plopped down on the couch next to her district partner, sinking into the plush cushions, he handed her his flask she grunted her thanks and tipped it back, it was warm, but at least it wasn't water. "Fuck Katniss Everdeen," she muttered, if Blight heard her, he didn't acknowledge.

"I don't want them to kill me, I don't want them to have the pleasure of seeing me die, I want to die on my own terms, I don't want my fucking children to watch me die. I'm not scared of death anymore, Johanna, I want to get it over with." He sobbed out the words, hiccups and gasps for breath trailing after them, she pulled him against her, whispering quiet sounds into his ear and running her fingers through his hair. (She used to do this for her brother when he was hurting. She held him like this after their dad died.) She didn't tell him it was okay, it was a ridiculous phrase, nothing is okay if someone is reduced to tears. Nothing was okay about this. So she cried too, their tears mixed, leaving sticky trails, they were shitty people crying about shitty things that happened to people who were the farthest thing from shitty.

"Finnick told me something tonight," she whispered, they pulled apart, she passed him back the flask.

He tried to choke out something then cleared his throat and tried again, "Yeah?"

She pulled him in close "They're gonna try to get berry girl out of the arena," she whispered so quietly into his ear she wasn't sure he heard her, despite the close proximity.

"Yeah, I know," he said, Johanna's head shot up. "Hey, don't look at me, they thought if anyone but Finnick told you you'd snap their neck," he smiled a little bit. She rolled her eyes, considered it for a second and then shrugged. Probably realistic. "I'm going to bed, I'll see you in the morning," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead before walking off to his room. Johanna walked to the refrigerator and examined the contents, nothing good.

The District 7 mentor, Clifford, stumbled out of his room, he was sixty five years old if he was a day and she was amazed that his liver was still functioning (at this point she was amazed at the perseverance of her own). He grunted a greeting (or something, maybe it was just a grunt, hell if she knew) before reaching into the open fridge, forcing Johanna to step aside, and grabbing a bottle before turning away "Don't forget you have training tomorrow," he rasped. She squinted at him, not only was that the only helpful information he had shared, it was the only thing he had said period.

She muttered something along the line of "_Unbelievable_," and stalked out of the room, considering slamming it but when she remembered Blight was sleeping, she decided against it, turning the knob and pulling it closed so the sound was muted. The hinges creaked, she clenched her jaw. She wondered if she could coax someone into letting her in the training room tonight so she could blow off some steam, she wondered if she could just let herself in. Then she wondered what the point of training even was at this point. She wondered if they still had that open bar in the lobby. She decided to make it her mission of the night to find out.

* * *

When she reached the lobby and the elevator doors opened she was surprised to be greeted with the beautiful (and slightly distraught) face of Katniss fucking Everdeen, she lowered her gaze down to the ground, planning on pushing straight out the door when the girls arm jutted out her body forming a blockade between the elevator bay and the hotel. She backed up a little, Katniss stepped forward, one girl swept her eyes over the other girl from head to toe, one mimicked the motion, then she smirked. "Let me guess. You just couldn't stop thinking about me, couldn't get me off your mind, sweetheart?"

"Don't call me that, you sound like Haymitch," she muttered. Johanna scoffed. "Why'd you leave?"

Johanna pointed to the button panel of the elevator, none of them were lit. "Are you taking me back to your place, Everdeen?" Johanna said, she could tell her lack of answering was frustrating the other girl, but she was just getting started.

Katniss punched the button with the "12" printed on it, Johanna arched a brow. "If that's what it takes to get some answers out of you," she responded. Johanna didn't know what answer she was expecting, but it certainly was not _that. _Johanna's jaw dropped, she shut it quickly and shifted her weight to favor her right leg, leaning against the glass wall of the enclosure as the elevator lifted, skyrocketing smoothly before slowing, the doors slid apart. Katniss started for the door, but Johanna was still, the younger girl grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out and to the door of the stairwell, Johanna pulled her wrist out from the other girl's grip, rubbing her finger's over it. She'd concluded a couple things by now one: Katniss had a very strong grip and, two: they were most definitely not going back to the archer's room.

* * *

**A/N** \- hey guys, sorry it took so long again for this update, thank you for all the inspiration and the reviews and stuff it means so much to me that you guys are still hanging in there with me even though i'm awful with updating. i promise this next chapter won't take me as long, if it does feel free to send me some inspiration and motivation via tumblr pine-bundles. thank you so much, i really hope you enjoyed. (also i apologize for the amount of times i used the word "shitty" in this chapter and also any mistakes)


	7. Chapter 7

"Why did you leave?" Katniss asks again once they have surfaced on the roof. It wasn't cold but a chill passed over her and Johanna shivered, she crossed her arms across her chest, wrapping a hand around each one. She slumped against the wall of the building, one leg kicked out under her in support and the other finding hold to steady her against it, she found herself unprepared for this conversation. She fixed her eyes on Katniss, it looked like the girl was doing everything in her power not to make eye contact with her. The brown-eyed girl suppressed a sigh, "Well, princess, it seems my problem with commitment has branched out to take a toll on conversation as well. My therapist will be almost as disappointed as you are."

She could practically taste the other woman's frustration. (Johanna had conquered the art of not giving a straight answer to anyone as soon as she embarked on her Victory Tour.)

Katniss leaned against the wall beside the older girl, Johanna watched out of the corner of her eye as the girl cupped her face in her hands, exhaled and produced a certain phrase into her hands that sounded a lot like "Forget it," the latch hitched into the door jamb and she was gone.

Johanna's head was tilted to a slight angle, as if yearning to see around the corner, like her eyes could pull that door open and follow the younger woman down the stairwell, her hair fell in her face, obstructing her view from anything.

Katniss Everdeen had just pulled a Johanna Mason on Johanna Mason herself.

* * *

Johanna woke the next morning with an aching back, she'd fallen asleep in an armchair tucked in the corner of her designated bedroom. (She hated sleeping in beds. They were too empty.) Sitting up, she dug the heels of her palms into the hollows of her eyes, and let out a grunt of displeasure, Johanna wasn't a morning person. She combed her hair into a loose ponytail with her fingers. She would have to cut it before she went into the arena, it was getting to be a nuisance.

The previous night and the conversation with her new acquaintance came into her mind somewhere between changing into her Capitol-issued training clothes and brewing coffee. She considered it briefly, but decided she needed to focus on the present, but much to her distaste the conversation gnawed at her mind, persisting despite her attempts at drowning it out.

She ground her teeth together and distributed coffee into two mugs, she snatched a couple packs of sugar out of the caddy, pocketing one and dumping the other into one of the mugs. Light slanted in through the up-angled blinds sheltering the window, illuminating dust pieces that lofted in the air, she let her mind wander to the previous night.

She wouldn't think of the conversation as a confrontation by any means. No insults were thrown around, no physical harm was inflicted, it was just surprising to her. She'd gotten walked out on twice in one day and a common denominator was present in both of those.

Blight interrupted her thoughts, hooking his fingers through the handle of the sweetened mug, she watched steam plume off of the surface and remembered her own coffee, uncomfortably hot in her hands. "Good morning," he murmured groggily.

"Rough night?" she asked. The Victor just sipped his coffee in response. Johanna didn't ask any more questions.

"Alright kids let's go," Clifford's voice broke the silent tension, he accentuated the word _go_ enthusiastically. (Someone had certainly gotten some pep in his step.) Blight discarded his coffee mug on a table, Johanna took a couple sips of her before following suit.

She pushed past her district mates and led the trio out the door to the elevator, pressing the down button before waiting impatiently for the doors to part. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. (Patience wasn't her strongest virtue.)

When the doors finally opened, behold the District 12 crew.

Honestly, at this point Johanna didn't know why she hadn't seen it coming.

Blight gave her a small shove of encouragement and she stepped through the doors, smiling acutely at Haymitch, who returned the gesture with a small nod, Peeta mimicked. The other District 12 Victor pretended not to notice her, Johanna pretended not to notice her pretending not to notice her.

(Maybe it was a pride thing. Or maybe she wished she didn't.)

The elevator descended a few floors before opening, the screen above the bottom panel read "4". Finnick entered, escorting Maggs. The old woman smiled at her, Johanna smiled back. Finnick scowled at her, then proceeded to avoid eye contact for the rest of the descent.

Great. Two people who were pissed at Johanna in one confined space.

She was really starting to hate this God damned elevator.

* * *

Johanna participated in training like she spent most of her free time, sober and angry.

She could feel Katniss' gaze on her a couple times, burning holes straight through her skin when her back was turned. She tried to talk to Finnick, figuring he had no reason to stay mad at her, but most of her attempts were to no avail, even when she bribed him with the sugar packet she had stolen earlier. He'd pretended to be invested in knot tying with faux razor focus. Johanna called bullshit, she knew he could tie those in his sleep, but she left him alone regardless.

She found herself lazily swinging a light-weighted axe around, going through motions her muscles had memorized before she knew how to tie her boots and letting her mind wander to her first Games, her first training session. She remembered sitting in a corner and crying until her tears ran dry and her throat was tender from choking back sobs, and the boy selected from 7 finding her.

His name was Rowan.

She let herself think about him for the first time in a long time, all the things she had gathered about the boy and she began to list them in her head.

One. He had a dog, a mongrel mutt named Hale. Hale wasn't Rowan's dog per say, he was a stray. (The boy's parents wouldn't let him keep the dog, they couldn't afford another mouth to feed.) The boy would sneak out with bread crusts or spoiled leftovers when his parents were working and find his dog, it was risky, because both of those things were supposed to be unheard of, you ate everything you were given, you had none to spare, but Rowan somehow found a way around that. When Johanna came back from Victory Tour, she'd tried to find Hale. (She hadn't gotten very far, she'd broken down in an alley way, sobbing until a merchant found her.)

Two. He shared the same name as Johanna's brother. It was a fairly popular name, District 7 parents jumped at any opportunity to name their kids after a tree, go figure. Rowan trees were beautiful, they blossomed pale flowers in the spring and crimson berries in autumn. They were called the "traveler's tree" and maybe that was appropriate because there were few trees in Seven that were not pine. They were said to help those venturing out on a journey away from home from getting lost, and maybe that was appropriate as well, because both boys acted as her guiding light at one point.

Three. She killed him. And it wasn't cruel or intentional but it didn't matter, she'd put him out of his misery but she'd still taken his life. He was one of her victims, according to the Capitol. It was some sort of sin in the Games to kill your District partner, not to the inhabitants of the Capitol, but to the people back home. Oh, how they hated her back home. (The Capitol hated her eventually as well.) She got the question a lot, why did she do it? Was it because she hated the boy? Had he tormented her? They had their theories, Johanna grew tired of trying to explain that it was an accident, or that he had asked her to put him out of his misery, but eventually she just let them make their wagers.

Four. She hadn't gone to his funeral. They wouldn't let her in, she wished they couldn't look her in the eye, that they had just ignored her. She didn't want their thanks for bringing honor to the District or whatever the hell the brainwashed mindset of "the people" was supposed to be, but anything would be better than the absolute malice they treated her with. Maybe it was a pride thing. Maybe it was a Johanna Mason thing. Victors were supposed to bring pride to their District, Johanna had instead brought silence and seclusion. (The Capitol tried to play the "mysterious" card for a while, but it lost its charm when she became bitter.)

Five. She sat next to his casket on the train ride home, no one could convince her to come out. She didn't eat or sleep unless it was in that car. She wished she could hold him again, that they could share their stories of home one last time, that they could have gone home together. And that she could introduce him to Roan. She wished they could have been friends before the Games. She wished she would have asked if the two had known each other, but she didn't even know Rowan's definite age.

(Johanna sure wished a lot of things for someone who didn't believe in wishing.)

* * *

Later in training her attention was dragged to a growing crowd around one of the training stations, curious, Johanna went to check it out, pushing and elbowing her way through the group with insincere apologies. She noticed one of the Victors was unaccounted for and when she finally saw what they were looking at, she knew why.

Johanna was some sort of oblivious idiot or something because she really should have been betting on this shit by now or something.

Katniss Everdeen, clad in sweat-soaked (The good kind of sweat though. The rolling off of skin sort of sweat.) standard-issued training gear stood knocking down holographic targets deftly. At least a dozen pairs of eyes on her and yet she still didn't waver under the pressure, if she even noticed them at all. Johanna was starting to really comprehend why everyone was so impressed with the District 12 Victor.

(Not that she would ever admit it.)

* * *

Johanna was sitting with her knees pulled into her chest on the benches of the waiting room. She didn't know why she had butterflies in her stomach, she had never been the nervous type. She exhaled a stream of warm air into the air, stealing a quick glance behind her at Katniss, they made eye contact briefly and pulled away in a sort of synchronization.

They called the female Morphling, she her neck whipped around in a paranoid frenzy, her eyes everywhere trying to find out who had said her name. Blight gently touched her arm and pointed to the loud speaker, then the door.

Morphlings made Johanna glad she only did hard drugs on special occasions. Blight made Johanna furious, he deserved better than to be put through the ringer again with this Capitol bullshit. She surveyed the room again, only half the tributes were left, none of which Johanna was particularly close with, but she knew they all deserved better than this.

She rested her head on Blight's shoulder, watching his knee bounce and listening to rhythm of his heel come down on the tile. She let herself think that it would all be over soon.

The called Blight's name, and then after a couple of minutes, (Johanna hadn't been counting, but it felt like a lifetime.) they called her own.

* * *

Johanna walked through the door and into the middle of the ring , offered a stiff middle finger and some choice words in the direction of the game makers, and walked right out the door without being dismissed, not even bothering to waste the time of seeing their reactions.

She found Blight waiting for her outside the exit and she falls into his arms and she promised herself she wouldn't cry after that night in the room but she found her face hot and there was an aching in her throat and a swelling sob finds its way out and then the tears come and Blight just holds her. (She thinks he's crying too but she's being a little selfish with her attention at the moment.)

She steadies her breathing after a little while (Probably a little longer than "little".) and she pulls away, alternating between clenching her jaw and biting on her lip to keep any more hiccups or gasps locked away inside of her. It was almost comical because she used to think she had perfected keeping things bottled with an air-tight cap inside of her, feelings, emotions, nothing surfaced but hate. (But then again, she used to think a lot of things.) Her district mate brought his hand up to her face and at first she flinched, but she relaxed when he swiped his thumb over her cheek to wipe away one of her tears.

"It's gonna be okay," he didn't even try to speak the words like he believed them. Johanna tried to find solace in them, but she couldn't.

He led her to the bathroom in the lobby, she splashed water on her face and then walked with him to the bar, where they were greeted by some familiar faces. It was mostly just previous Victors that hadn't been drafted for the Quarter Quell, some that she had known since her first years mentoring, some that she hadn't been well acquainted with, but she smiled regardless.

(Some things never change.)

* * *

Once she and Blight were well into their fifth or sixth drinks (Maybe it was seventh? Johanna had stopped counting after the first round.) Clifford had come to retrieve them despite Johanna's slurred resistance of, "Come on, Cliff, we're just a little buzzzzzed," Blight joined in with a few pleas of his own, but their protests were to no avail.

Clifford asked for the help of another Victor who Johanna didn't recognize, but at this point faces were a little blurry (Okay, a lot blurry.) Johanna snatched a shot glass off of the bar counter and downed it with an easy flick of her wrist just before Clifford started pulling her out of the lobby, barely giving her enough time to set the glass back on a table.

Shaking loose her hand of her mentor's grip, Johanna was sent reeling to the side and crashing into mirrored surface of the closed elevator doors, she stumbled back and surveyed her own reflection. "S-sorry, gorgeous, didn't see you there," she said with a wink, which, to her surprise, was returned by the other figure, at the same time. "Whoa," she murmured in amazement

"Johanna, that's you," muttered Clifford, his annoyance prevalent in his tone. They elevator doors opened a second later, Johanna gasped. Clifford lightly shoved her inside, and then followed, jabbing the "7" button on the panel. Johanna gasped in amazement as it lit up.

She pressed every other button in the panel until they were all glowing, Johanna stared, mesmerized and they stopped at every floor on the way up. Even intoxicated, she still found joy in the annoyed clench of Clifford's jaw and his muffled grumbling. Blight was speaking animatedly to the other mentor, who's lips were a thin, contoured line, but the gleam of amusement in his eyes betrayed that. She smiled a little bit, she didn't remember the last time she'd seen that. It cleared her head a little bit.

When they finally reached the Seventh floor, the mentor waved goodbye, Blight returned the wave enthusiastically before catching up with the brown-eyed girl an slinging an arm over her shoulder. "Can I tell you a secret?" he whispered. (It probably couldn't have been actually classified, but she knew that was his intention.) Johanna shook her head enthusiastically in response. "I'm scared," he said, and suddenly she wished she'd had a couple more drinks, she wished that she would get alcohol poisoning or something to make it stop because she was scared, too.

She fell asleep easily that night. Maybe it was because she was drunk, or maybe it was because she didn't care if she didn't wake up.

But she knew she would.

* * *

**A/N** \- i hope you enjoyed this one. the last chapters have been pretty short so i'm trying to lengthen them. also i'm trying to update more frequently, weekly or bi-weekly, so please let me know what you think, you can send you feedback to pinebundles via tumblr or right here! thank you guys so much.


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